


To the Victor go the Spoils (or saying I saw it first is not a valid claim for anything-people included)

by ColetteLunsford



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Crack, Bilbo Has Issues, Bilbo Is Awesome, Caring Thranduil, Emotional Manipulation, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone loves Bilbo, Fíli and Kíli Are Little Shits, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Oblivious Bilbo, Parent Thranduil, Relationship(s), Thorin Is an Idiot, bad realtionships, bard is a saint, girls are smart no matter what race, playing with their ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:31:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetteLunsford/pseuds/ColetteLunsford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I could not pass this on Tumblr and not write it.</p><p>‘idek you but we both wanted the last bit of orange chicken at panda express but while we were arguing over who got it someone else bought it and let’s join forces and fucking ruin this person’s life’ au from ijustwannaselloutmyfuneraltbh on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Victor go the Spoils (or saying I saw it first is not a valid claim for anything-people included)

**Author's Note:**

> Some people celebrate the end of finals by drinking or partying.
> 
> I do mine by staying up until 2 writing fan-fiction.
> 
> Living the dream.
> 
> Also un-beta'd just to warn you.

Thorin had dealt with many a hardship as a college student at the renowned Middle Earth University, the loss of his family home and fortune forcing him to house his high school nephews so that his little sister Dis could continue to work towards rebuilding it.

 

Gone were the days when a man or woman could get honest pay through hard work and punctuality now everything required a degree of some short for even the most minimal jobs on the scarce market.

 Hell; it was the main reason his lot was all here polishing their degrees in order to land steadier work to pay for the damages, replenish their riches and feeding the mouths of their loved ones.

 

The madness of sharing such a small begotten frat house _Kappa Alpha Psi_ with eleven other family members, when they should have been residing in the family’s famed luxurious _Alpha Durin Kai_ which had been mysteriously overtaken by an unseen party.

 

Distraught in maintaining a sense of order so said members don’t get arrested (Dwalin and Gloin were a near thing every pub night), finances, and leading them into the greatness that was graduation.

 

In the three short years He has suffered many things such as his stupid nephews Fili and Kili getting pouched by some of the local campus cougars, boxing their ears as he dragged the idiotic brats away from the scheming women and sometimes even more dangerous men like Azog who felt compelled to harass his kin.

 

Helping them with their homework while he scrambled to finish his in the twilight hours before sleeping those blessed two hours before having to haul the boys up to drop them off at the Ebeor high school two hours down the street.

 The commute was long but the company of boys he had to chauffeur made it even longer with their poor tastes in music and zombie-like prowess that Thorin had to literally toss the buggers from the van with the ever heartwarming shout of ‘DON’T SCREW THIS UP AND HAVE A GOOD DAY AT SCHOOL’ leading many a teacher to gawk before quickly turning around for his first morning class at eight am.

 

For those three years controlling the chaos that was his family from getting evicted from their shabby house, making repairs to make said place livable (or mostly so) on a budget without taking out a loan, taking up odd jobs-even posing nude for several life drawing classes to make ends meet to feed mentioned family.

 

He has dealt with the prejudices of man, Orc, Wizard, Darrows and _Elves_ alike but Thorin would be damned if it came down to this.

 

Adjusting his gait closer to his quarry Thorin made sure to stand tall and fierce in his worn plaid shirt and ten day old jeans and the time too late to be making other arrangements; this was not just standoff but a conquest of the upmost importance.

 

“Step away from the orange chicken package special or you will not leave this place with both hands,” Thorin growls deeply at the offending slim hand hovering so close to his prize.

 

Of _course_ it would have to be Thranduil Greenleaf that tree-shagging jerk wanting to steal what was rightfully his at a Panda Express no less!

Was there nowhere that Thorin and his company flee to without meeting up with their former neighbor?

 

Dressed in his pretentious designer clothes with his stupid long blonde hair done up in an equally stupid complicated ponytail that was _nothing_ compared to the majestic flare of his braided one.

 

It never amused Thorin how no matter how different their majors were his in criminal justice and Greenleaf in musical theatre that they often shared vital classes and he was paired with the self-absorbed snob when all Thranduil offered were insults and jabs concerning his shortcomings.

 

Had this been a first hateful meeting Thorin could have ignored it as he did with many others but theirs unfortunately was sown before stepping foot in these blessed halls of education.

 

Many moons ago (give or take three years) when his ancestral home became a victim to arson and neither Thranduil nor his kin came to his aid, well it wasn’t surprising why Thorin felt the sudden urge to bash his face in every time they crossed paths.

 Mahal knows that Thorin already has enough trouble trying to keep the rest of his family (read everyone) from following suit otherwise they’d all be out on their asses without a degree and homeless.

 

 Already he could see a dark brow rising up above that prissy prat’s Raybands to mock him with his thin lips quirking into a ghost of a smile at his expense.

 “A big bluff from such a small man, tell me Thorin, how exactly would you detach them if you cannot reach them in the first place? Perhaps you intend to steal them with that pathetic oak branch bracelet you’re so keen on wearing?” Thranduil taunts as he towers over Thorin, his Hollister cologne nearly gagging the poor dwarf on volume alone.

 

Thorin wants to do a lot of things, like go off on a tirade about how this very piece of oak saved his life, how shelter whelp would never appreciate the beauty to be told and more importantly how _ugly_ Thranduil’s toes were in those god awful sandals (seriously, electric blue and sunshine yellow? And his comrades thought _he_ had coordination issues) however Thorin had no time to deal with such trivial manners when food was on the line.

 

Refusing to be intimidated by some pampered jackass like Greenleaf on principle and he steps in closer into Thranduil’s space ignoring his need for breath to glare imperiously at the elf, “One good swipe at those twigs you call legs would be all it takes to bring you down to size.”

 

“Oh, you’d need more than a ‘good swipe’ to bring me to your level ‘O king under the mountain,’ perhaps you should settle for more earthly goals like realizing you’re not walking out with this bag of orange chicken,” Thranduil counters gesturing his hand to the remaining bit of food left in the sack.

 

“And you should realize that I will not allow you to abscond with _my_ dinner ‘Elf king’! You don’t even eat meat!” Thorin accused ignoring how the worker (another elf) begged them both to calm down.

 

“There are times when even I adhere to the call of the flesh just as any other man,” Thranduil confesses with an elegant shrug, “however, your so called claim disturbs me if you perceive everything your eye touches makes it yours. It is but a small wonder that your name has become synonymous with that of a headless chicken.”

 

 _I cannot afford to be kicked out now, not when I have only a year left…just grab the orange chicken and leave,_ Thorin mental grinds in his mind hoping that his face is at least distracting the elf long enough to snatch the packaged meal.

 

“And to think, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror would fall so far from grace that he would fight for a measly package of orange chicken from a third rated Panda Express but I guess this _is_ a step up even from before your home caught fire don’t you agree?”

 

Sadly, out of all the sins given to man, Pride is most definitely Thorin’s vice.

 

“YOU LOUSY HIPPIE _**TREE** _ HUGGER,” Thorin angrily shouts before fisting his still oily from his minor in mechanical engineering and gets great pleasure in seeing the tall blond cringe at the action.

 

With ease Thranduil shoves Thorin off before going on the attack, gripping the shorter man by his braids and dragging him towards the nearest wall, “YOU **FLITHY** , _PATHETIC_ PIECE OF DRWAF; HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME!”

 

As the two tussle neither party notices when the employee runs to get her manager or that the door chime going off as they continue to trade barbs and they definitely do not hear the: ‘thank you come again’ as the chime rang out a final time.

 

“What in Mahal’s name are you two children doing in my establishment? Thranduil, your father will hear about this and Thorin! I thought your family was worth more than your pride!”

 

Both cease their movements Thorin a good tug away from owning a large chunk of platinum locks and Thranduil in wonderful position to dislocate said arm to see Professor Gandalf Grey looking very unsettled.

 

It was a well-known fact that Professor Grey had many odd jobs around campus as he finally claimed tenure, go on ‘little adventures’ so to speak seeing his students interacting outside of his educational setting to give them unsolicited advice.

 Mostly Thorin thinks that Gandalf skives off his classes to his temp Professor Brown because Gandalf is bored and quite frankly has nothing better to do than meddle in other people’s affairs.

Why the old man looked so perplexed was beyond him, Gandalf knew his beef with Thranduil years before they came to this school.

 

Thranduil was the first to place his ‘ _I’m too superior for this shit’_ mask on to face Gandalf, “I promise you Mithrandir, there is no need to report to father as Thorin and I merely had…a misunderstanding of sorts, now if I may say-”

 

“You lying sloth, you were trying to steal _my_ food from my family’s mouths when you clearly have enough funds to eat better,” Thorin yells at Thranduil’s side earning a very annoyed side glare.

 

“Now Mr. Oakenshield, surely you cannot know for certain that Mr. Greenleaf is as affluent as you perceive. Why even an orc can tell that shirt he’s wearing is older than he prefers and the board shorts are actually a knock off,” Gandalf replies peacefully as his poor employee watches from the safety of the counter.

 

Of course Thranduil balks at the claim stating there’s no way in all the realms that he would ever deign to brandish anything but the best before Thorin notices. “The orange chicken, it’s gone!”

 

“WHAT?”

 Thorin and Thranduil both rush the counter causing the employee behind it to flee once more into the back room.

 

“You bastard, if you had not tried to take what is mine I-”

 

“What part of ‘I saw it first’ does not equate to ownership do you not comprehend you stupid-”

 

“BOYS,” Gandalf booms sending shadows on the walls of the Panda Express grow larger and the cries of the lone employee to climb higher.

 

If there was but one trait that Thorin and Thranduil shared it was understanding when to shut the hell up in the presence of a wizard, more importantly one that had connections to greater powers like frighteningly beastly little sisters or authoritarian fathers.

 Seeing the duo in a calmer state Gandalf fishes out his pipe aimed to light it before a loud voice from the backroom screeched, “NO SMOKING IN THE BUILDING SIR” before Gandalf sighed and walked outside with the pair following.

 

“I understand you boys are hungry and that there are very few cheap places that are open late but perhaps I can help you both,” he says after stuffing the pipe but then loses his thought searching for a lighter.

 Thranduil is the first to offer his to which Thorin sneers from the opposite side.

 

“Thank you my boy, but really, you can’t afford to keep up that habit what with your little princeling about,” Gandalf admonishes before taking a long drag.

 

“Princeling, what princeling, do not tell me that one has _spawned_ ,” Thorin says with his face stuck between struck and horror.

 

“At least any children I have will be lovely in both beauty and temperament unlike you-”

 

“I was under the impression that you younglings wished to eat sometime before the morrow,” Gandalf complained.

 

Content that the two would be silent long enough Gandalf continued, “The young lad I sold the last of the orange chicken to is a regular of mine, Bilbo Baggins, kindly Hobbit lad all the way from the _Shire_ no less.”

 

Neither Thranduil or Thorin seem to have any grasp of the concept of a Hobbit but Gandalf is anything but determined as he presses on, “I happen to know that Mr. Baggins is having a welcome party to encourage new members for his fraternity tonight and the orange chicken was merely a drop in the sea of food that will most likely be present at his gathering.”

 

“So you wish me to beg at his doorsteps for scraps? I am no beggar Gandalf, even in my darkest hour I have my pride!” Thorin declares.

 

Really, Thorin has to draw the line somewhere for his honor lest his fathers’ roll in their graves along with that of his mothers.

Thranduil looks close to repeating the same before demurely asking for directions to the fraternity and then taking his leave into the night.

 

Dumbstruck Thorin watched the elf leave before looking at Gandalf who merely shrugged, “Not even Thranduil is so prideful to put himself before the well-being of others and should you wish to do better I would suggest you catch up to Mr. Greenleaf before you lose sight.”

 

Feeling more frustrated and chastised Thorin runs off into the shadows after the fleeting figure as Gandalf takes one last puff of the disappearing weed, “Kids these days…they’ll drive you to the brink.”

                                                                                                                                                               ***

“Hey wait up! Hey-hey! I said wait you rotten piece of-”

 

“I have no time for our quarrels Oakenshield, it’s nearly ten and I still need to find substances for my own,” Thranduil quickly lashes at the dwarf before returning to his usual pace.

 

They walked in silence or more accurately Thranduil walked and Thorin maintained a brisk jog in order to keep up, making several turns and bounds doing his damnest not to be left behind by an _elf_ no less.

 Thorin’s sense of direction was great at the best of times but at night…well, it wouldn’t be the first time Thorin had camped in a random location on campus before being found by Nori.

 Trying for nonchalant Thorin tries to pry for more information, “So…you have a kid.”

 

Making his pace faster Thranduil refuses to face him, “And what of it? It is none of your business of what I have and what I do not Oakenshield.”

 

Then with a flourish the elf fishes out his I-phone to shoot off a text before pocketing the device in the vast pockets.

Of course the prick would still have an I-phone.

 

Not one to be outdone Thorin matches his speed, “Look I’m trying not to be an ass here the least you can do is-”

 

Before Thorin registers it Thranduil’s got his back slammed into the nearest oak tree with his long face far too close for his liking, his breath quick and each word laced with venom, “Do not speak to me of hardships for mine drawn deeper. Did you not think it odd that I would not help you when I was _grieving_ over the loss of my one? Or perhaps you were too thick headed to realize my shoulders were heavier long before yours felt any _true_ weight.”

 

Really, Thorin would have escaped seconds ago and sent that alien face to eat pavement had it not been for the gentle but firm voice calling out to them, “Excuse me, I say, you lot better not be fornicating near my garden or I will call campus PD!”

 

Like a bomb exploding between them Thorin and Thranduil separated to look disgusted at the source, a tiny young lad with curly copper locks standing under the porch light looking very much put out in what could only be described as his Sunday best.

 

The house is dressed like in ridiculous hues of red and gold glittering in the night, signs, streamers and what could be an expensive assortment of strobe machines can be seen attached to the ceiling and the music thrumming in the distant can clearly be made out as the top forty.

 

Clearly this was a fraternity of the douchebag brotherhood with a fine trimming of entitlement and privilege carelessly spilling from their red solo cups.

Thorin’s even willing to bet on his little earning that the fridge there is only packed with that carp beer or worse.

 

Thorin is moments away from yelling something rude when without warning Thranduil covers it, “I’m terribly sorry, my companion and I were merely discussing on the location for the fraternity pledge party. Surely a fellow in the know such as yourself would know where that might be?”

 

Immediately the figure stands a bit straighter under the light making him far more cordial, “You must be here for our party then! Please, come on in!”

 

Moving far faster than Thorin anticipated Thranduil is at the door that he only manages to catch spares of their conversations, “Oh, I am truly sorry about before, the party started at seven and when no one showed up I was getting a bit miffed but that’s no excuse for my lack of manners.”

 

“No, no, the blame lays with us, or more accurately my accomplice here Thorin; here the idiot comes now. If it weren’t for my sense of direction he would be so hopelessly lost on campus,” Thranduil says sweetly and _dammit_ Thorin wants to wring his neck but Thorin needs to get food for his company (more importantly his nephews) or Dis will find out (she always does) and have his beard.

 

The shorter man chuckles lightly at the comment and offers his hand, “Welcome then friend, my name’s Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins at your service and I would like to formally welcome you to my fraternity’s pledge party.”

 

So this was a hobbit, a short child-sized being that looked too young to know anything about hunger, too soft to know hardship, too frail to protect anything let alone himself.

The boy’s pretty Thorin will give him that with those full cheeks and potato nose but Thorin requires more than fleeting beauty to get his interest piqued.

 

Everything about this man says ‘I’m a stuffed up fool that only thinks about being proper and could never be around someone so uncivilized or shout rude things into the night’ from his belly filling out the smart waist coat to the manicured breeches at his waist and Thorin doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

 

“Thorin Oakenshield, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Thorin spouts off robotically because really, he’s only here to grab as much food as he can for the others when Bilbo leads them through the door.

 

“Please, help yourselves to the refreshments, as much as you like because I swear there’s no way that I can eat this horde myself, not even in a week’s time before it spoils,” Bilbo urges earnestly as he offers the table.

 

And lord, Bilbo was not kidding.

A total of seven tables laden with different foods some greasy, some exotic, some green, and very many baked treats that could feed his family for a month burdened those tiny table legs.

 

Distantly Thorin thinks that he should call his friends to let them know of his bounty but in the throes of his poverty such excess like cellphones and pay plans could not be afforded and there was no way the elf would lend his phone.

Where was that vegan bastard anyway?

 

For someone intent on securing nourishment for others he clearly didn’t seem to have his eye on the ball.

He was probably romancing the poor sod’s potted plant in some begotten corner of the building while that pudgy grocer watched in abet horror.

 

 _Perhaps if I could sneak around to find a landline I could call,_ Thorin thinks around a hefty leg chicken before the echoes of his kin nearly cause him to choke.

 

“THORIN YOU OLD BASTARD!”

“UNCLE WE WERE SO WORRIED!”

“WE NEARLY HARASSED CAMPUS PD TRYING TO FIND YOU!”

“YOU SHOULD HAVE _CALLED_ US YOU FOOL.”

 Instantly his person is attacked by familiar hands as his cousins and nephews cling to him until he falls flat to the floor.

 

From unseen hallway Bilbo emerges with Thranduil in tow looking far too pleased, “Wonderful, there’s more of you! Welcome to our pledge party, my names’ Bilbo Baggins and I welcome you all to _Alpha_ -”

 

“My dear Bilbo, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” calls a deeper voice at the doorway that sends any and all of Bilbo’s attentions.

 

“Elrond! Or should I say Professor Elrond? Forgive me, we’ve been so familiar over our many years together that I’ve yet to encounter your last name,” Bilbo says a bit quickly in his greeting only stopping to see the shy blond figure poking its head from around the folds of Elrond’s slacks.

 

Kneeling down to a lower Bilbo sweetly calls to the meek shadow, “Why hello little one, you must be Legolas, I seem to have a huge plate of some leafy greens fresh from my garden and I would be most grateful if a big boy like you could help an old man like me finish them off before they spoil since I can’t count on a bunch of darrows now can I?”

 

The blond smiles shyly and with a gentle push from Elrond joins Bilbo’s hand as he leads them to the veggie table that is obviously being avoided by the present company inhaling the meats and baked goods.

 

So far his kin are enjoying themselves in this stranger’s home, an oddity since Darrows aren’t prone to take comforts in foreign places but here…it feels natural.

Homey even-not that he’ll ever tell Bilbo that and not just because Bilbo was what looked like enthusiastic discussion of some sort with Ori, Bofur and Balin.

 

No, instead Thorin was going to continue stuffing his face with free food and make sure Fili and Kili did the same when Thranduil like the dastardly elf he was had to drag him off again.

 

“I do not care about your petty problems that can be solved here or your kind but I swear to you on all I have that the Hobbit is _mine_ ,” Thranduil enunciates slowly as if he were some simpering child.

 

Shaking off his hold Thorin sneers at the elf, “Do as you like because it matter not to me, my kin and I are only here for the food so do try to be less of an asshole and let us eat our fill before we have to slip away, understand?”

 

Thranduil’s face flashes with disgust, glee and smug before its quickly schooled back into a blank slate, “Then by all means O King under the mountain, as you were,” before sashing off to join Bilbo, Elrond and the brat over at the yucky green food table.

 

Bent on wreaking more havoc Thorin turns to make a beeline for the greasy tacos and bean casserole when another set of hands holds him steady.

 

 _By Durin’s beard why can I not eat to my contentment?_ Thorin mentally whined as he faced with Balin, one of his family’s oldest advisors wearing a face he had not seen in many years.

 

“Thorin my boy, you’ve done it! You’ve found us a home that is not only better but we can afford! Bilbo, bless the lad, says that since he knows man in charge of the property he can give us a deal on the rent! Some nasty business involving a murder and the Florida but that’s neither here or there. They have eight rooms-all of which are larger than our own that we can easily share and better yet, no one else has heard wind of it. I’ve have a quick talk with the others and we’ve decided that no matter what we’re pledging to this fraternity,” Balin gushes with a smile blinding Thorin.

 

“Whoa, hang on Balin who ever said we were going to live here? Our fraternity is a respectable Darrow home-”

 

“Thorin our home is in shambles, the water heater doesn’t work and your nephews are falling behind on their studies because they have to take turns using the bed. We need a new place and this one happens to be a great one, don’t tell me you can’t feel it too.”

 

No, damn well couldn’t but Balin didn’t have to know that.

“Regardless Balin I do not wish to be at the mercy of one so green and weak as this…burglar of wealth. I doubt the boy even knew how to come to any of this on his own power instead of the labors of another’s wallet.”

 

The whack Thorin receives with a rolled up document may not have been foreseen but Thorin made sure to make seem like it hurt for Balin’s sake.

 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about you ignorant brat, Bilbo Baggins is a respectable man, did you know that he went against the wishes of his sire to come here? That it was basically forbidden by his community to let him receive schooling outside their walls and when he left he had not a penny to his name but only a few scholarships to live on? That he grows his own food and held down six jobs while maintaining his grade point average? How he had to literally _live_ in the school’s library until finding a home here? Hell, he’s _still_ offering his home to us even when we confessed our troubles. Where do you get off prattling nonsense? Is that the kind of leader we need? Well?”

 

Thorin’s eyes dart over to the Hobbit now taking great delight in entertaining the small elf child with the aid of Bofur, Gloin, and Bombur as Thranduil and Elrond fondly looked on.

 Especially Thranduil who was perhaps sitting to close to the Hobbit than should be considered necessary or decent.

 

Not that Thorin cared or anything but still, there are children present.

Even if two of them are his clueless nephews and the tree hugger’s spawn.

 

“I bet you didn’t think of how we got here either you fool of a boy,” Balin accuses, “ _Thranduil_ texted Elrond who then called _me_ about your whereabouts. Honestly, it’s as if you paint yourself some sort of dramatic anti-hero on _purpose.”_

 

“I do _not_ act like that-”

 

“Hey Thorin,” Kili calls over from his space on the ground acting as the princeling’s ‘kill’, “This place is awesome!”

 

“Yeah Uncle, can we move here please? Kili and I will even dual enroll if we have to! We can handle the work load,” Fili adds before ‘sword fighting’ with plastic spoons with the lanky tyke.

 

“Aye, this place is a find Thorin, I wouldn’t mind laying my old bones here,” Dori agrees before passing a plate of Buffalo wings to Oin.

 

Bifur nods along in agreement beside Dwalin as his mouth is still trying to engulf an entire slab of ribs.

 

“I for one have already pledged my loyalty to this fraternity in my heart amongst other things,” Thranduil announces none too delicately that it even makes _Thorin_ cringe.

 

Well, Thorin’s not having any of that especially how Hobbit’s face lights up at the statement and really, getting a pledge from Thranduil of all people can’t hold as much sway as his.

 

 _Well, there’s no helping it then_ , Thorin thinks as he graces the others with his presence as he is dogged by Balin’s ever watching eye.

 

“Then on behalf of my company I would formally like to pledge ourselves to your fraternity,” Thorin says with as much pomp as he can to show just how majestic his kind can be.

 

Naturally the Hobbit is enthralled with his majestic flare as evident on his cute rounded face (wait…where did that come from? Nevermind- not important now) as Thranduil’s mask nearly slipped into that of a silent rage.

“This is all so wonderful!” Bilbo cheered, his eyes a bit misty and his voice genuine, “And here I thought we’d be stuck in this big old house all by ourselves!”

 

_We?_

“Wait-you mean there’s _more_ of you?” Thorin asks uncaring of how Balin smacks him again.

 

Suddenly there’s a loud crash unlike a falling stone smashing into the earth by means of a catapult above their heads causing all to cower in fear of the quake that danced after the sound.

Only Bilbo seemed to take it without any form of anxiety but instead tried offer the younger ones comfort.

 

In a flash the room is taken in darkness before the lights flicker on again, from the shadows of the staircase comes a man, no-an elf man hybrid as Thorin had never seen a man so tall and lean stepping with purpose down the marble notches.

 His hair a crown of dark red curls, his eyes a golden brown so cruel and cutting as it scanned the room, his complexion that of babe that had never felt sunlight and a face with so many angles that could’ve given Thranduil’s a run for its money.

 

All packaged up in a tailored suit that politely matched Bilbo’s in cut but far grander in design with golden buttons, rich red fabrics, dark noir and laced with gold thread trimmings.

This man smelt of fire smoke, brimstone, and horrifyingly enough, **death.**

 

Three steps before the bottom the man-creature drinks in the sight maintaining the first floor starting with a questioning stare at Elrond’s group before it sours further on the shoulders of Thorin.

 “Thieves…all of them,” the deep voice rumbles making the rafters of the house convulse with the noise, “Bilbo... **Bilbo**.”

 

“Calm down you overgrown lizard, I’m right here,” Bilbo calls from behind the backs of Fili and Kili who thought it would be best to ‘protect’ Mr. Boggins from the intruder.

 

With as much excusing and practiced maneuvering Bilbo does make it past the twin wall of dwarf and past the others to make it to the stairs where the rude man awaits.

The stranger ushers Bilbo closer to which he does willing to which the man carefully cards through the nest of riotous curls.

 

“Ah, **my** thief in the shadows, **my** barrel-rider and _dearest_ friend, how is it that you let this…fifth into my domain?” he questions none too sweetly.

 

To say the others were appalled was an understatement, most of Thorin kin and Thranduil included looked ready to murder had it not been for Bilbo smacking the creature’s arm with an admonished, “SMAUG, You can’t _call_ people that, it’s rude and untrue! Really, he doesn’t mean it; Smaug’s just really poor when it comes to new things you see.”

 

Bilbo is doing an admirable job trying to keep the peace but his companion, this…Smaug is not making it any easier.

 

Not even bothering with excuses he knocks into the others leaving Bilbo to provide apologies before shoving Bombur from the couch to sit regally upon it, glaring Legolas into hiding behind Ori of all people before demanding, “Tell me then, my dearest why we have invaders in our home? Certainly they all have their own shitty holes in the wall to occupy rather than our nest.”

 

Poor Bilbo is trying to help the hefty dwarf up when he turns to Smaug, “Mind your tongue Smaug, there _are_ children present and it’s for pledge week remember, if we don’t have enough members our house will be overtaken in the following week. Not even your bank account can stop that.”

 

Smaug does not seem convinced but then again his attentions are more pressed upon Bilbo, specifically where any part of Bilbo comes in contact with anyone else.

“So you’re saying that they are willing to pledge unfailing loyalty onto me without question in order to reap the goods I have sown?”

 

Bilbo stops trying to soothe Legolas with sugared treats to stare at the man, “In a sense yeah, but it’s not like it entitles you to ruling rights-”

 

“Then I accept you, all of you though you are all unworthy,” Smaug announces with force, “You may steal the food from my mouth, the warmth of my beds, and the coin from my purse but only on the condition that you are not allowed to touch Bilbo Baggins in any circumstance.”

 

“And who are you to decide Bilbo’s fate? What right do _you_ have to him?” Thorin demanded with Thranduil and the others echoing his question.

 

It’s not like Thorin actually cared for the little Hobbit, it was only because he was a natural born leader that fought for injustices and the weak.Like Bilbo, and not because of anything else at all or had any designs on the rounded lad like that tree shagging elf king. At all.

 

In lieu of an answer Smaug patted his thigh to which Bilbo quickly heeded the call to stand in front of so Smaug could wrap his long arm around his middle.

The whole room holds its collective breath as the Hobbit fidgets, Smaug’s fingers dancing at his hip in a maddening way before they still.

 

Bilbo blushes under the pressure both of the company and the possessive grip at his hip, “Well, you see, Smaug _is_ my fiancé."

**Author's Note:**

> YES!!!!  
> Now to push myself to write all my other stuff.  
> If you know how I can give the above mentioned user credit please let me know.


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